The nurses and techs who handle the chemo drugs use gloves so that an errant drip doesn't splash on their skin. You'd think that kind of toxicity coursing through a tube and into your veins would turn the irises of your eyes into pinwheels or curl your toes into toboggans, but the reality is I felt nothing. Maybe a little warmth, but that could have been just my imagination. I suppose it would be a totally different experience if I'd had an allergic reaction, but I didn't.
It's a two-bagger chemo combo called TC, made up of one bag of Taxotere and one bag of Cytoxan (cyclophosphamide), neither of which sounds friendly. In tandem, they prevent cancer cells from dividing and growing. The treatment is systemic and attacks cells that reproduce rapidly, like cancer cells. There are plenty of healthy cells that reproduce rapidly as well, like those in the mouth, intestines, scalp -- hence the potential for side effects.
So while these "benevolent toxins" made themselves at home in my own personal domicile, I ate my lunch, sipped my iced beverage and read my book. As one bag ran its course, it would be disconnected, the line flushed and the second bag connected.
Linn arrived at 2:30, pulled up a recliner and took out her knitting, and between the two of us we tag teamed Chris, my chemo administrator, with our flying wisecracks. Chris was game. She included Linn in the process of reading me the possible side effects I could experience -- because chemo brain -- a sort of foggy way of thinking -- could be one of them, and it might behoove Linn to remember that for me.
There are no entries for a chemo plus column. Here are the possible negatives: nausea and vomiting; loss of appetite or metallic taste; dehydration; very dry skin or nail bed changes; fluid retention/edema; neuropathy in fingers or feet (numbness, tingling); bleeding; fatigue; hair loss; diarrhea or constipation, with Senokot being recommended for the latter. And let me just say this about that, if you're having chemo -- get the Senokot.
Those are just the annoying side effects. If I was to develop any of the following, I was to call the doctor immediately: Shortness of breath or chest pains; signs of infection or a fever greater than 100°; mouth sores; nausea, vomiting, diarrhea or constipation for 24-48 hours; or signs of bleeding. I was to drink two to three quarts of fluid daily and take particular care in the 7 to 10 day period following chemo when my white blood count would likely plunge and leave me vulnerable to infection. It was advised, during that period, to avoid crowds, eat only fruits with a peel and keep a brick wall between me and anyone with a cold.
Chris advised me that, in addition to losing my hair, I might also lose my eyelashes, eyebrows and nose hair. I smiled at the nose hair but she admonished me not to celebrate that loss. It is our nose hairs that keep us from having runny noses.
I began to realize how my dance card would remain empty as I turned into a hairless mole with a drippy nose. If I was lucky, maybe my chemo brain would not store that memory.
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